Lori Borgman
One of our sons-in-law, a combat veteran who works out on a rowing machine and treadmill, lifts weights, runs five miles in scorching heat and freezing cold for fun, often grabs a protein shake to tie him over until dinner since he works from home and rarely has time for lunch.
Because we have so much in common—the part about working from home—I decided to try protein shakes as well. Sure, I could scrape together some leftovers for lunch, but our leftovers have spawned so many aging leftovers, they could chart themselves on ancestry.com.
When I turn to the ‘fridge for lunch, I usually come away with salad. Lettuce, carrots and cucumbers do not have protein.
I need protein. I know this because I hear this and see this all the time in pop-up ads, commercials and messages from extremely fit and well-paid health experts. You know what has protein? Things that moo, oink and cluck have protein. My taste for meat has developed an inverse correlation to age. The older I get, the less it appeals to me.
So I bought some of those little chocolate protein shakes, the brand with a picture of a wide-eyed cow on the label. One protein shake has 60 grams of protein. I am basically drinking two chicken breasts for lunch. Chocolate chicken. Yum.
Over the course of a week, I probably consume all the protein you would get from an entire side of beef. Consequently, I feel taller, stronger, younger and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.
I am sailing along, feeling good about life and protein, when some of the grands drop by and swing open the door to the ‘fridge to see what we have to eat.
A voice says, “Grandma, when did you start buying chocolate milk?”
“That’s not chocolate milk, girls. That’s my protein shake,” I say, exuding an air of confidence that says I am in the know and on top of things.
Silence.
“It’s not a protein shake, Grandma. It’s chocolate milk.”
They hand me the bottle with the wide-eyed cow on the label and point to type at the bottom that says, “Chocolate Reduced-Fat Ultra-Filtered Milk” and drop to the floor laughing. I have been drinking chocolate milk for lunch.
I have since switched to the real protein shake, which fortunately gives me strength to endure the ribbing that keeps coming my way.
I wonder if the kid in me knew I was drinking chocolate milk all along.
The grands went home, but they are still rolling on the floor laughing.
Lori Borgman is a columnist, author and speaker. Contact her at [email protected].
